


Holes In His Armour

by literallyjustanerd



Category: Heroes For Hire (Comics), Luke Cage - Fandom, Marvel, Marvel (Comics), The Defenders (Comic), The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Hurt Danny Rand, M/M, Protective Luke Cage, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-04-23 17:15:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14337252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literallyjustanerd/pseuds/literallyjustanerd
Summary: Luke isn't sure how he feels about Danny, who seems to evade all Luke's attempts to understand him. Danny is convinced that Luke's standoffish behaviour is because Luke dislikes him. Both plagued by new and unfamiliar feelings, they have no choice but to stumble through it together.





	1. Changes

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is yet another piece I started on a whim, and suddenly I had a dozen ideas floating around in my head for what to do with it. I love this pairing so much its a wonder I haven't written anything for it before! Anyway, let me know what you think of it so far, and if you have any preferences or ideas on how you'd like it to continue, I'd love to hear them.  
> Thanks so much for reading, have a great day!

            It was quarter to nine when Luke got the text he’d been dreading. His phone had vibrated on his nightstand as he was pulling on a clean hoodie, and he held his breath as he walked over to check the message. It was from Matthew, explaining that something had come up at work, and he was needed in the office that night. Luke let out a sharp sigh, wondering if he could make up some last-minute circumstance that would excuse him from going out without the two people he had wanted to go with. Jessica had pulled out that morning, citing what she had only referred to as “personal business.” And now with Matt out of commission, that only left _Danny_.  
            It wasn’t that Luke disliked Danny, per se. They weren’t the greatest of friends, but he didn’t mind being around the man when the rest of the team that had been labelled the Defenders was around. It was just that on a one-on-one basis, the Iron Fist could get a little… intense. And that wasn’t something that gelled well with Luke’s grounded, simple sensibilities. The four of them had planned to go out for drinks, mainly because after saving the city together twice, it seemed a little strange for their relationship to not to progress to a personal one. However, it seemed that for Luke and Danny, the night had just gotten a little more personal than they had bargained for. With a deep breath, Luke forced himself out the door, hood pulled up against the winter chill. He would wander the streets for a while before heading to the downtown bar they’d agreed to meet at.

            Danny’s heart jumped into his throat when he realised that he was about to spend the night alone with the one team member he was convinced hated him. Matt had been accommodating, and Jessica, as droll and cynical as she had been, at least seemed to find something amusing about how unusual his take on life was. Luke, however? He had been completely impossible to read. Strong and silent didn’t even begin to cover Luke Cage. Danny could scarcely remember a time he had gotten a response from Luke that wasn’t some form of unimpressed silence or, at best, a one or two-word reply without eye contact. He surveyed the city from the terrace of his apartment, and a new sense of resolve began to form within him. He would get a decent and amicable conversation out of Luke by the end of the night, no matter what it took.  
            By the time Danny had found his way to the bar, Luke was already there, sitting in a booth and nursing a beer. Swallowing down his nerves, Danny sat opposite him, giving what he hoped was a friendly smile.  
“Hey,” he greeted, and Luke nodded in reply.  
“Hi.”  
“How are you? Busy day?”  
Luke shrugged.  
“Not really, no. You?”  
“Just a couple of meetings. I managed to get off early.”  
Conversation soon withered, and Danny found himself tapping his foot uncomfortably under the table, the pressure building to find something to keep their night afloat. Their booth was a pocket of awkward silence in an otherwise loud and boisterous bar, the sounds of laughter and jovial conversation mocking the pair in the corner who could barely tolerate the awkwardness of each other’s company. Finally, halfway into his second beer, Danny decided he could no longer take it.

           “Why don’t you like me?” he blurted, eliciting a bewildered frown from Luke.  
“Where the heck are you getting that from?”  
“You barely speak to me, and every time I try to have a conversation with you, you get this look on your face like I’m the weird kid in class nobody wants to sit with.”  
Now that, Luke couldn’t help but to laugh at, though he felt a twinge of guilt for the way he’d acted as well.  
“I like you just fine,” he assured Danny. “You’re just not what I’m used to. That’s all.”  
“Really? I’m not that different from anyone else.”  
Luke shot the man opposite him a deadpan look.  
“First day I met you, your opening line was that your fist lit up because you’d fought a dragon in a mystical land somewhere on the edges of this dimension.”  
Danny’s insistence faltered, and Luke let out another involuntary chuckle. Strangely enough, Danny found himself neither annoyed nor embarrassed by the sound, but comforted, even glad.  
           “I’ll admit sometimes I forget how strange an idea that is for people. Guess I’ve lost touch with ‘normal’ life a little,” he confessed.  
“In more ways than one,” Luke quipped, glancing down over his beer bottle at Danny’s attire. The expensive, brightly-coloured brand name clothing certainly stuck out in the downtown dive bar, otherwise a sea of t-shirts, simple button-downs and jeans. Danny gave a small, sheepish smile.  
“Hey, I was raised like this,” he defended light-heartedly. “I left when I was ten and came back at twenty-five. I don’t know any better.”  
“I guess that’s a fair point. But I’m just messing with you, man. I don’t care what you wear. You’re a good guy, I get that.”  
Danny got another dose of that unexpected satisfaction, this time accompanied by a hint of warmth he assumed was the alcohol kicking in.

           Mercifully, conversation from there was far less forced, and flowed much more freely. From joking about their previous misadventures to sharing stories of rebellion from their youths, even to taking pictures with a couple of people who recognised and approached them. After three or four drinks each, they decided they were both finished with the bar and left. It didn’t take long for Luke to realise that while at the start of the night he would have taken this opportunity to excuse himself and return home, by now he was happy to walk beside Danny, continuing their conversation as they passed through the streets of Harlem. He had found Danny not only to be a good listener, engaged and nonjudgmental, but a comfortable person to be around. His smile was infectious, as was the sense of calmness and openness he gave off. Far from the raw, near animalistic intensity he’d held on the battlefield, he seemed as down-to-earth as could be. Which was why he found himself opening up more than he expected himself to when Danny began asking about his past. Before he even knew what was happening, he was telling him everything, things that usually took weeks for him to feel comfortable sharing with someone. For his part, Danny took it all in intently, waiting until he was finished before giving a response. But instead of the sympathy Luke had come to expect, Danny slapped him on the back and smiled warmly at him.  
           “You’re a tough guy, Luke. Inside and out. You ought to be proud of that.”  
Luke couldn’t do much more than blink in response, wondering why he felt such a sudden rush of gratification at Danny’s words.  
“Uh… Thanks.”

           By now they had found themselves at the edge of a small park, standing under the incandescent light of a yellow streetlamp. For a split second before he managed to catch himself, Luke could have sworn he’d been admiring the way Danny’s hair caught the light. The prospect that such a thought had arisen organically within him dazed him, throwing him off so much that he scarcely heard Danny’s next question until he was forced to repeat himself.  
“Luke? Do you wanna go get something to eat?”  
Luke’s instincts told him to say yes, but the enthusiasm with which he wanted to agree was yet another feeling that was completely alien to him. He opened his mouth but found the two sides of his cognitive dissonance warring for what he would say. Finally, his discomfort won out, and he shook his head.  
“I, uh, I should get back home. I have to be up tomorrow morning. Some other time, maybe.”

           The crestfallen look on Danny’s face drove a knife through Luke’s stomach. He had been convinced that they had made real progress that night. Perhaps Luke did have to be up early the next morning, but the shiftiness of his reply aroused suspicion in him that it was just an excuse. After all the sharing they’d done, the jokes, the teasing, Danny had thought, or hoped, that they were more than just the awkward acquaintances and teammates they had been hours before. He felt childish, and not just because of Luke’s large and imposing stature. Finally, he managed a nod, balling his hands in his pockets and staring down at his feet.  
“Course. I get it. I guess I’ll see you around, then.”  
Luke let out a sigh, wishing in vain against his own fear and agitation that he could take it all back and go with Danny, find a pizza place or a food stall on the street and keep their conversation up. Ask all the questions that he had about Danny, his life, his past. He flipped the hood of his hoodie up, movements harsh and unnatural.  
“See you around,” he mumbled, and made his escape down the street towards his building, not daring to give into his impulses and look back over his shoulder.

           Danny watched Luke walk away, heart sinking in his chest with every step. The disappointment at being left alone was worse than he was used to. Though he attributed it to the extra effort he’d made to forge a bond with Luke, he knew deep down that there was something else as well. Something more foreign, something harder to understand. It was almost a whole minute until he was able to drag himself away from his spot under the streetlight, beginning the long walk back home.

           He’d have plenty of time to think about the many reasons Luke might have turned him down so abruptly, but even his wildest theories would not come close to the truth.

       


	2. Fighting For Air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both Luke and Danny are struggling with their respective feelings, facing hardship on their own with no-one to ask for help. But something bigger than their pride is coming. Something that might just force out some much-needed honesty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the kudos and the comments! The more I think about this fic, the clearer my idea is of where I want this fic to go, so I'm super excited to keep this up and running. That said, if you have any particular ideas or suggestions on what you'd like to see from me, don't hesitate to let me know. I'm always happy to discuss ideas! Hope you enjoy this somewhat quieter chapter.

       Luke cursed himself as yet again he let his mind slip back to where it had been drifting all afternoon. All day. All _month_. Four weeks since that damned night with Danny, and still he was unable to shake the strange and incomprehensible thoughts that had arisen while getting to know the Iron Fist. He swung his fridge door shut with a little more force than intended, and tensed his jaw, ashamed of how easily he’d let these alien feelings overcome his self-control. With a sigh he sat down in front of the TV, pushing the image of Danny’s smile from his mind. But small details still haunted him, the corners of Danny’s mouth pulling to the side, dimples forming in a face that was still flushed from a hard-won fight. And good god, the _laugh._ That laugh had haunted Luke since the moment he had heard it, playing over and over in his mind any moment his guard dropped. Just what was it about that sparkling laugh that made Luke feel like his stomach was turning inside out? Sometimes, late at night when he was vulnerable and nearing sleep, he was almost convinced that the reason was because he was desperate to hear it again, desperate even to be the reason for it. Then, like waking from a nightmare, he would vault back into the realm of consciousness and try to deny ever having conjured up that thought at all.

       Luke wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take. The Defenders had been brought together multiple times since that cursed night, both for business and for leisure. And in that time, not one of the four of them could deny that there had been a sudden change in the way Luke and Danny interacted. The barrier between them had not been taken down, but it certainly had changed dramatically in nature. Rather than forced, stunted conversation made only when it was needed, the two were like old friends, albeit more like old friends that had an old, unsettled and unspoken conflict between them. They would joke, they would laugh, they would even make jabs at each other over drinks or during a fight. And yet, inevitably, the moment either of them stepped over the line— made a joke that suggested a little too much familiarity, let a smile or a chuckle last a moment too long—the two were thrust once again into the horrible and disorienting world of shame and second-guessing.  
To Luke, it was nothing short of emotional torture, like being thrust underwater, and nearing the surface again and again, coming so close to air only to be dragged down ten feet deeper the next instant. It was growing unbearable: more and more of his time and more and more of his thoughts were growing to be solely about Danny, about what Danny thought of him, why Danny had made a certain comment, what that private little smile meant. Dragging a hand across his face in aggravation, he checked his phone for the fifth time, finding two messages from Matthew and one from Claire. And despite his inbox not being empty, he for some reason still found himself disappointed.

       Danny’s playlist had run out ages ago, and still he hadn’t been roused from his meditative state, as tumultuous as it had been. It was late now, almost midnight, and still he sat stubbornly on the floor, brow furrowed in concentration and legs folded meticulously. Despite his best efforts, he could not manage to coax the stiffness from his muscles, the tense aversion to the strange visions he was having. His mind would be clear, breathing steady and deep, when a flash of a large, strong hand would cross his mind, fidgeting with a phone cover or flexing into a fist. And that, in turn, would lead to images of a bicep, an arm, pulled back and following through to exact a perfect, precise, devastating blow. It was infuriating, being unable to relax without these sudden and unwanted intrusions, and being unable to properly focus without letting himself relax. Finally, with one last impression of two hands brushing against each other as they reached for a handful of fries, he found he could no longer take it, and stood from the floor of his living room, stretching out his aching, fatigued limbs. He had tried to confront his feelings head on, to decipher the various evidence that had been laid out before him, but they proved enigmatic, vanishing the moment he tried to identify them and leaving him doubting his own sanity, whether they were even there or not.

       He had never experienced much in the way of these feelings in K’un Lun, never even heard much of them. From the time he was old enough to begin entertaining the thought of romance, of attraction, he was told it was nothing more than a distraction from his training – an impediment on his journey to becoming the perfect and ultimate warrior. While he had dabbled in the shallows of amorousness and attraction, any time he had been suspected of becoming too involved, he would be fiercely disciplined, to the point that he began to fear the day his curiosity overpowered his self-preservation. These feelings of apprehension and trained aversion only made what he was experiencing with Luke all the more terrifying. So much had changed since he had returned from his mountain kingdom. So many worldviews challenged, even shattered, to the point where he had been thrown into turmoil and forced to question whether the last fifteen years of his life had been a sham. And now? Now more than ever he felt like a child, lost and confused with no-one to turn to for answers. As many connections as he’d made since his return, there was nobody he knew well enough, trusted enough to bring up such private matters. Even if he did, he severely doubted his ability to put the feelings into comprehensible words.  
An hour passed, and Danny sat cross-legged on the sofa in his lounge, finishing off a bowl of leftover noodles and nursing a cup of green tea. His eyes saw the newscast playing out before him, and his ears heard it, but little of it registered in his conscious mind. One singular question occupied all of his attention: how could he get these thoughts _out_ of his _mind?_ Meditation, his usual go-to, hadn’t done anything except make things worse. Sleep in this state was hopeless, he knew. With a sigh, he set the box of noodles down and fell back on the sofa, palming his forehead hard as though he could reset his brain with enough force. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered faintly what Luke was doing, whether he was up and in the same situation as he. It was more a fantasy to him, if he was honest. He couldn’t realistically imagine Luke lying awake agonising over the smallest details of their interactions, trying to come to terms with something he didn’t quite understand. In the end, Danny fell into an uneasy sleep in the early hours of the morning, TV still droning on quietly in the background.

       As he slept, plagued by dreams of time alone together and all the ways such a thing could go right or wrong, something else was brewing in the city, something big that would take little time to come to a head. Danny would soon be woken by a call from Jessica, with one simple demand that Luke was simultaneously getting from Matt: _Get out here_ now. When the four assembled partway between their houses, still stumbling from sleep and woefully unprepared for action, the grim look on Matthew and Jessica’s faces told them all they needed to know of the seriousness of the situation.  
“Is it—” Luke began, but Jessica cut him off with a single shake of her head.  
“It’s no-one we’ve ever dealt with before,” she said simply. “But with what they’re planning? They don’t want it to stay that way much longer.”


	3. Holding On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fight breaks out, in more ways that one, and both Luke and Danny find themselves forced to confront their feelings in a new light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like how this chapter turned out, and I hope you do too! There's a small graphic scene in this one, not enough to warrant an archive warning, but I thought I'd still put it here just to warn any particularly squeamish people out there. There's a little description of blood, but it doesn't get too detailed. Hope you enjoy!

            Danny’s muscles were on fire, screaming at him for rest and relief. It had been that way for an hour at least, and yet he knew that they’d still be denied for hours more. It was chaos on the streets, people thrust from their sleep into the all-too-familiar terror of a supervillain attack in downtown New York. Danny took half a moment to cast his eyes across all he could see: Jessica was closest, wielding a broken parking meter as a makeshift weapon. Matt was more elusive, darting across rooftops and trying to get an upper angle. His eyes caught on Luke, stuck to him as he ushered civilians into the subway and out of danger. Though hours before he had been overtaken with irrational anger at the sight of that broad chest and solemn face, all he felt now was a nauseating tug at his heartstrings before he was plunged into the fight once more.

            It had begun as the four of them stood on a dim street corner, dead-eyed as they sipped bitter, bland coffee and tried to make sense of what was happening.  
“You really have _no_ idea who it could be?” Danny asked for the third time.  
“None whatsoever,” Jessica replied with a barely perceptible shake of her head. Matt gingerly rubbed at his forehead.  
“We don’t even know who it was who called us. They rang, they said that there’s some madman out there who’s about to release some mythical monster into the streets of Harlem, and they hung up. We couldn’t even trace the number.”  
Luke frowned, arms folded.  
“And they said the deadline is dawn,” he stated, to which Matt and Jessica both gave an affirming nod.  
“That’s under an hour away. Just what exactly are we meant to do in that time?”  
“Well, we hoped maybe Danny would know something about all this.”  
All eyes turned to the blond man, squatting on a park bench and staring blankly at the pavement in front of him. He seemed to tense up under the attention, shoulders rising as they waited for a response.  
“What?” he said finally, brow furrowing. “I don’t know. I don’t have an encyclopaedic knowledge of everything mystical and magical.”  
“Worth a shot,” Jessica mumbled, glancing down at her phone to check the time. “Looks like we’re out on our asses, then. Unless anyone else has any bright ideas.” 

            Luke’s brow was furrowed, deep in thought. It seemed hopeless, uniquely so this time: usually they at least had some vague lead to follow, some faint chance at preventing disaster. Even when their attempts fell through in the end, it eased their nerves and their guilt to have something to try.  
“This is out of our hands,” he said finally. “There’s nothing else for us to do. We should call someone else. The police, the Avengers, SHIELD, whoever.”  
“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Danny said with a frown. “We can still handle this. Even if we were to call for backup, it’s still our responsibility to help however we can.”  
Luke looked down at him, saw the first hints of the new light of day bring colour back to Danny’s eyes, his hair, his face flushed red against the cold of a New York night. With it all, he felt the strange lump of emotion formed weeks ago begin to shift into something new.  
“There’s nothing we can do,” he contested, more sharply than he’d meant it. His sudden apparent loss of control only fed the fire that had ignited in the pit of his stomach. “We have no idea what’s going to happen or how to even find out. We can’t go out there with our heads in the clouds thinking our obligation to this city is enough for this to not kill us. The most responsible thing to do would be to call somebody who actually stands a chance here.” His voice was tinged with frustration, a bite to it that definitely hadn’t been voluntary. Though once it was out, he found that it was quite cathartic, and even found a sort of twisted satisfaction in the disconcerted and slightly hurt look on Danny’s face. He knew it was wrong to take out his frustration in this way. He knew Danny deserved none of this for merely expressing his determination, and he knew much better than to vent his own frustration on the object of his unresolved feelings, but more clearly he knew that it was already too late.  
For his part, Danny’s shock and embarrassment was quickly channelled into anger. It was something he’d done often during his training, something he was even encouraged to do—taking just about everything within him, confusion, fear, desire, and merging it into a kind of aggravation that pushed him forward and gave him the fire he was so notorious for.  
“So we abandon the city we’ve been defending for how long now?” he flared, green eyes suddenly hard as steel. It felt simultaneously sickening and invigorating to be letting out his emotion in such a way, like indulging in the ultimate guilty pleasure. “We run like cowards and let the big kids take care of it?”  
“This really isn’t the time for this kind of argument,” Matt chimed in, but he was bluntly ignored by the two, who seemed to have sparked something too hot and too strong to be extinguished, at least not until one of them overstepped the line and said something they’d really regret. 

            The fact that Luke couldn’t help but struggle not to get lost in the ferocity behind Danny’s eyes did nothing to soothe his anger. His hands balled into tight fists at his sides, teeth clenching hard.  
“You sound like a kid,” he chided. “Snap out of it, _Iron Fist._ This is the real world. You can’t always win the fight just by believing in yourself and being sure you’re the ‘good guy.’”  
“Is that the excuse you use?” Danny tossed back with just as much ferocity. In an instant, all his feelings had been inverted: Luke’s trademark pragmatism had gone from admirable to deplorable, and the hardened look in his eyes turned from fascinating to infuriating. All those nights spent agonising over what Luke thought of him now felt foolish, wasted, horribly naïve. He hadn’t even noticed until that moment that he’d stood up in his anger, holding his own despite Luke still towering a head above him and  twice as wide.  
Both men had a dozen more insults lined up, crammed into their throats and all fighting to be the first out, but they were stopped in their tracks when Jessica got between them and physically forced them apart. It took a scolding filled with enough foul language to make a sailor blush for them to finally come back to their senses. Their anger remained, however, bubbling hot and ready under their skin as the four of them made the decision to give it everything they had in lieu of having the time or knowledge of how to call for help. It wasn’t until the fight began that the ferocity of battle diluted their rage, and turned it into a kind of sick regret.   
            It was hard for Luke to keep focused on the fight when all he wanted to do was find Danny and apologise. At least, he thought he wanted to find Danny and apologise. He knew he lacked the strength to explain his actions, so perhaps all he wanted to do was disappear, or go back and avoid ever meeting Danny in the first place. He knew better than that, however: despite everything Danny Rand had put him through, meeting him, knowing him, having him in his life was anything but regrettable. Perhaps it was by design that this thought was the one running through his mind as his eyes locked on Danny receiving the blow that knocked him unconscious. The scene played out like a dream in front of Luke: their monstrous opponent heaving one horrible, ungodly limb and slamming Danny to the pavement like a ragdoll during a child’s tantrum. With no sign of movement or resistance, Danny skidded along the asphalt until he hit the corner of a building, and though Luke was thirty feet away and there was chaos between them, he could swear he heard the sickening dull _thud_ as Danny made impact with the sharp brick.  
At once, his breath was stolen from his lungs, blood turning to ice in his veins. The moment he was sure the civilians by the subway could continue without his help, he stumbled towards the man, blind to the battle as it began to reached its climax around him. He reached Danny just as the monster took its final fall, drawing him into his arms and begging him to wake, to move, say something, do _anything._ His chest shuddered between ragged, gasping breaths, stomach threatening to spill as he saw the bloody scrapes where he had been hit. Danny’s costume had been torn to shreds where the impact had been worst, and there were bloodstains blooming like flowers on his legs and stomach. His head lolled back when Luke moved his arm, lips parted and eyes shut gently. If it weren’t for the gravel-encrusted wounds on his cheeks and neck, anyone would swear he was just sleeping peacefully. 

            The thirty seconds it took Luke to find a pulse and a sign that Danny was breathing felt like a lifetime. The beating pressure against Luke’s fingers pressed desperately to Danny’s neck was weak, thready, and his breathing was shallow and ragged. But it was something, and enough for Luke to channel his terror into determination. With movements tender and careful, he drew Danny into his arms, picking him off the ground and cradling him against his chest. His first thought was to take him to the hospital, but that idea was quickly banished: not only was the nearest clinic too far to run with Danny in such a condition, but it would also mean the end of the secret identity Danny had worked hard to maintain. That only left him with one option, and Luke was off and running before Matthew or Jessica could even get close enough to ask what had happened. He took off as fast as his legs would take him, leaving the other half of his team to deal with the city block that had been destroyed in the fight. It wasn’t far at all to his destination, but Luke still found himself running faster than he’d ever run before, until he reached the stairs, the stoop, the door he’d been aiming for. 

            Claire didn’t seem surprised when she opened the door to find Luke laden with a bloodied and beaten teammate. In truth, this had become far too regular an occurrence for her. Wordlessly, she stepped aside to let Luke in and moved to set up a space to check Danny over, gathering the supplies she’d “borrowed” from her workplace.  
“What’d he do to himself?” she asked calmly, though her insides were churning at the thought of how quickly the man was losing blood. Her movements were quick, precise, and yet every part of her wanted to throw it all down and scream. Luke struggled to speak, still gaping for air after his sprint.  
“Big— _thing_ —threw him against—a building,” he sputtered, leaning against the wall of Claire’s kitchen. He watched her work, cleaning and checking and sealing Danny’s wounds methodically, almost rhythmically, not daring to ask whether Danny would be okay. It was an eternity until she finally set down her equipment, sighing heavily and shrugging her shoulders diffidently.  
“I think he should be stable like this. I _think_ ,” she intoned. “He’ll still need close observation for the next twelve to twenty-four hours, far as I can tell there are a couple of fractured ribs, his arm might need a sling. If anything changes, he’ll definitely need a hospital visit, but as he is now… I’ll give you this one, Luke, your friends are really fucking lucky.”  
Luke didn’t even try to hide how relieved he was, virtually falling apart there and then. It made his knees weak, forced a breathless smile onto his face, a disbelieving laugh leaving his throat.  
“Do you have to go?” he asked finally. Claire nodded.  
“Got work in—” she paused, stripping off a blood-stained glove and checking her watch—“twenty-three minutes.”  
“Can I stay here with him?” Luke asked softly.  
“Sure. Just don’t invite any other super-weirdos over.” 

            Luke waited until Claire had left before moving Danny to the living room. He had first laid Danny out on the couch while he took the armchair, but he soon found that this wasn’t enough to soothe his worries. That was how he ended up sitting on the couch with Danny laid on top of him, his back across Luke’s legs with his head against the couch’s arm. The TV blared softly away in the background, showing shaky phone footage of the very battle the two of them had been part of only hours before, but Luke couldn’t have been paying less attention. Instead, he let himself get lost in the details of Danny’s face, brushing his honey-blond hair, still matted with dry blood, out of his eyes. He couldn’t know how long it was until Danny’s eyes began to flicker, a faint groan escaping his lips. Luke held his breath as Danny’s brow drew together, squirming slightly before he finally came to. The pain was the first thing that hit him, every muscle in his body searing with agony. He tried to sit up, but quickly found that the stabbing pain in his chest was far too much. Even when he tried to breathe, he felt knives of pain drive through him. He was almost lost to the terror of the situation, until he felt arms around him, gentle but firm, strong and warm. When he realised that it was Luke holding him, soothing him, he felt not anger, not confusion, but a total and wonderful relief.  
            “It’s okay,” Luke breathed, and Danny believed it. He let out the breath he’d been holding, and though he still felt a sting in his ribs, it was dulled by the fact that he was safe, he was held, he was cared for. Exhaustion soon set in on him, and Danny quickly decided that questions could wait. He could wait to know what had happened with the battle, why Luke wasn’t still angry, how he’d ended up so hurt, where Matt and Jessica were.  
For now, all there was, all that mattered, all that existed was he and Luke.


	4. Letting Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke and Danny spend some time together, learn a little more about themselves and start to feel something even newer than their previous feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm enjoying writing this so much!  
> That is all.

            Danny opened his mouth three separate times before he scraped together the conviction to ask the question that has been on his mind for hours.  
“How come you’re not still angry at me?”  
Luke tried to hide how the question made him tense up. Facing away from Danny, he focused on tending to the pan of bacon and eggs on the stove. Once the adrenaline of the battle had worn off, it was quickly replaced by an aggressive and insatiable hunger. There was a long pause before he answered, and Danny began to fear that by bringing up the argument, he had inadvertently reignited the flame and popped the strange little bubble of stillness and serenity they’d created in Danny’s modest-for-a-millionaire apartment. 

            After leaving Claire’s apartment once Danny had properly come to, they had both come to the consensus that Danny would be better off at home. Admittedly, Danny had allowed himself to remain ‘asleep’ on the couch a few minutes more than he needed to, still just delirious enough to openly enjoy the comfort of being wrapped up in Luke’s arms. For his part, Luke had resolved to stay right where he was until Danny chose to rise. He didn’t even try to tell himself that it was for Danny’s sake. The dim morning created a strange atmosphere, as did the fact that they were in unfamiliar surroundings. The only thing Luke had done aside from watch over Danny was answer a few texts from the other half of the team about what had happened to Danny and when they could meet up to debrief about the battle. The fatigue of the day’s events numbed the two of them to any awkwardness that would have otherwise been, and they rose with few words between them. Dressed in some of the spare clothing Claire had taken to stockpiling, Danny trudged up the stairs to his apartment and let the two of them in. As much as he still wasn’t entirely comfortable being back in his childhood home alone, he had to admit that the sight of his living room was something of a relief. The whole level was open, decorated with rich, dark wood and expensive artworks his parents had bought at charity auctions. Luke couldn’t help but notice the clear difference between the décor that the apartment had originally had and the touches Danny had added. The extensive collection of B-grade DVDs on shelves that looked to be worth thousands of dollars, the empty noodle boxes still sitting on a dining table obviously made to serve foie gras. Once Danny was settled on the sofa, Luke raided the fridge to find something to fill their stomachs and give them back a little strength. With the homey smell of a full fried breakfast wafting through the air, mingling with the scent of rain from the open windows, Danny had felt the strangest sense of contentment he’d ever experienced. He could swear it was a completely new feeling, and yet there was something so achingly familiar about it.

            At first, he had been scared that the blow to his head had been harder than they first thought. But gradually, as he succumbed to the intoxicating safety and downright _pleasantness_ of lying on the couch while Luke prepared a very late breakfast, he managed to pinpoint where he knew this sensation from. It was somewhere down deep in the depths of his childhood, before his life had become the fantasy soap opera he was now used to. It was a simple feeling: home sick from school with a fever, his mother making him grilled cheese or chicken noodle soup in the kitchen, humming to herself while he was tucked up on the couch with his Gameboy and a hot cocoa. It was the feeling of being looked after, being cared for, something he’d been craving for so long he had forgotten all about it. That was what made it so much harder to break the spell and ask the question that sent the both of them hurtling back to the real world.

            Luke still had not responded his question, and Danny had accepted that he was not going to get an answer when Luke brought over a plate crammed full of eggs, bacon and toast, with a glass of orange juice to boot. He noticed with a private smile that the juice had been freshly squeezed and could have sworn he’d caught a hint of sheepishness on Luke’s face as he set the glass on the coffee table for Danny. Silence continued as the two of them ate their meal, though this time there was a distinct lack of the awkwardness that usually permeated all of their quiet moments. It surprised Danny when Luke opened his mouth, setting his empty plate on the table in front of his armchair.

            “I’m sorry,” he said, the words heavy as a thick woollen blanket. Danny forced himself to sit up a little further on the couch, wincing at the sharp pain in his ribs and his arm.  
“Sorry for what?”  
“For what happened. Shouldn’t have said those things. That’s not what I think of you.”  
Seconds ticked by, and it was Luke’s turn to wait expectantly for a reply.  
“You sure about that?” Danny finally said, a cautious smirk rising on his face. “You think all my jokes are childish.”  
He did nothing to quash the delight he felt at seeing Luke return his smile, somewhat bashful but just as genuine.  
“I mean it,” he insisted. “I was stupid to get so angry. When I saw— when you got hurt, I just—”  
“I know,” Danny said solemnly. “Trust me, I know the feeling. But I need to apologise just as much as you. Hell, I called you a coward. That’s not just insulting, it’s flat-out wrong.”

            Luke gave a soft laugh, a tired and comfortable sound.  
“Doing this whole hero thing really messes with the way you deal with your feelings,” he sighed, picking at a loose thread around a tear in his hoodie.  
“Everything just turns into anger,” Danny affirmed. “Fear, doubt, nervousness. Even happiness, sometimes.”  
Luke stood, collecting Danny’s finished plate and taking it to the kitchen basin. Just when Danny began to feel his heart sink at the thought of Luke leaving him again to wash the dishes, he returned.

“Have Matt or Jessica called?” Danny asked, and Luke nodded.  
“Yeah. I told them what happened. They’re glad you’re okay,” Luke nodded, pulling his phone from his pocket. Danny had to laugh, noting the almost absurd number of cracks in the screen and dents in the back.  
“Jeez, Luke” he snickered. “You may be bulletproof, but that thing definitely isn’t.”  
Luke looked down, as though only just noticing the damage.  
“What? It’s not that bad.”  
“How long have you had it?”  
“This one? A couple months.”  
“And it’s already that beat up?”  
Giving a shrug, Luke turned the phone over gingerly in his hands. It still worked fine, even if there were small dead spots in the screen and the lock button sometimes stuck.  
“All my phones end up like this,” he justified, and Danny laughed once more, the same bright, wonderful laugh Luke used to be tormented by but now simply relished.  
“Well, that’s just not good enough,” he mock-scolded. His jovial tone was infectious, and soon enough Luke was sharing his grin.  
“Not all of us can afford to buy a new one every week,” he retorted, and Danny gave a chuckle. After a length of comfortable quiet, Luke felt compelled to speak up once more. 

            “I meant what I said before,” Luke stated, hands clasped in his lap. “I really am sorry.”  
He was leaning forward, forearms on knees, head bowed. It still pained him inside to see Danny with his face marred by the evidence of his latest and hardest fall. Though he’d taken a shower at Claire’s, he still hardly looked like his usual self, bruises blooming like flowers here and there on his skin, muddy patches where his skin was scraped and scabbing. He noticed the hesitation as Danny breathed, every inhale and exhale testing his cracked ribs. There were wounds on his arms, one or two even on his face. And even so, Luke allowed himself to notice, those sparkling green eyes had not been dulled in the slightest.  
“I know. It’s okay, Luke, I forgive you.”  
“No, you don’t get it. I’m not just sorry for the fight. I’m— I’m sorry for everything.”  
“Everything?” Danny leaned in towards Luke, a curious and concerned frown on his face. Luke’s heart throbbed at the childlike sincerity of the expression, warring with the image of a battle-beaten warrior. He opened his mouth and said nothing for a moment, unsure what he was supposed to say first. 

            “How things have been between us. The way I’ve been treated you. You deserve better than having me take out all my bullcrap on you.”  
He half expected more confusion in return, but he and Danny must have been much closer to being on the same page as he had previously thought, as he received only a comforting smile and an understanding nod.  
“I wanted to say the same to you,” he confessed.  
“Really?”  
“Of course. Is there really any point in still trying to deny that there’s some weird stuff going on between us?”  
Lost for words, Luke tried his best to process what Danny had just said, and all the things it confirmed. Danny understood that he hadn’t been treating him badly on purpose. Danny knew the reasons for his actions. _Danny had the same feeling towards him as he did for Danny._ The corners of Luke’s mouth pulled to the side, and before he knew what was happening, a surge of sudden joy was bubbling up within him, spilling over into an effervescent laugh.  
“No,” he admitted. “No, there isn’t.” 

            The exhilaration of the confession stays with both the men even after Luke rises to make Danny a much-needed cup of tea. The air feels different when Luke returns to the couch and helps Danny sit up, grasping his hand while Danny pulled himself up. Instead of retreating to his armchair, he sits down on the arm of the couch, asking Danny how he is feeling and exploring where their conversation flows now that there aren’t nearly as many obstacles to stop it. Neither man can believe how free he feels, how simple and straightforward everything appears now. Of course, that doesn’t mean that they are ready to let their deepest, most buried impulses out – there is still quite a way to go before they will even acknowledge that those impulses exist. For now, they are more than happy with how things are. They have finally reached the surface and tasted that glorious first mouthful of air, and it is sweeter than either could have imagined.


End file.
